No More Learning

Why hast thou done this?

FERDINAND (without looking at him). Why, to be sure I ought first to
have asked the statesman whether the trick suited his cards. Admirably
fine and skilful, I confess, was the scheme of jealousy to break the bond
of our hearts! The calculation shows a master-mind; 'twas pity only that
indignant love would not move on wires like thy wooden puppets.

PRESIDENT (looking round the circle with rolling eyes). Is there no one
here who weeps for a despairing father?

MILLER (calling behind the scenes). Let me in! For God's sake, let
me in!

FERDINAND. She is now a saint in heaven! Her cause is in the hands of
another! (He opens the door for MILLER, who rushes in, followed by
officers of justice and a crowd of people. )

MILLER (in the most dreadful alarm). My child! My child! Poison, they
cry--poison has been here! My daughter! Where art thou?

FERDINAND (leading him between the PRESIDENT and LOUISA'S corpse). I am
innocent. Thank this man for the deed.

MILLER (throwing himself on the body). Oh, Jesus!

FERDINAND. In few words, father! --they begin to be precious to me. I
have been robbed of my life by villanous artifice--robbed of it by you!
How I may stand with God I tremble to think, but a deliberate villain I
have never been! Be my final judgment what it will, may it not fall on
thee! But I have committed murder! (In a loud and fearful voice. ) A
murder whose weight thou canst not hope that I should drag alone before
the judgment-seat of God. Here I solemnly bequeath to thee the heaviest,
the bloodiest part; how thou mayst answer it be that thy care! (Leading
him to LOUISA. ) Here, barbarian! Feast thine eyes on the terrible
fruits of thy intrigues! Upon this face thy name is inscribed in the
convulsions of death, and will be registered by the destroying angel!
May a form like this draw thy curtain when thou sleepest, and grasp thee
with its clay-cold hand! May a form like this flit before thy soul when
thou diest, and drive away thy expiring prayer for mercy! May a form
like this stand by thy grave at the resurrection, and before the throne
of God when he pronounces thy doom! (He faints, the servants receive him
in their arms. )

PRESIDENT (extending his arms convulsively towards heaven). Not from me,
Judge of the world. Ask not these souls from me, but from him!
(Pointing to WORM. )

WORM (starting). From me?

PRESIDENT. Accursed villain, from thee! From thee, Satan! Thou gavest
the serpent's counsel! thine be the responsibility; their blood be not on
my head, but on thine!

WORM. On mine! on mine! (laughing hysterically. ) Oh! Excellent! Now I
understand the gratitude of devils. On mine, thou senseless villain!
Was he my son? Was I thy master? Mine the responsibility? Ha! by this
sight which freezes the very marrow in my bones! Mine it shall be! I
will brave destruction, but thou shalt perish with me. Away! away! Cry
murder in the streets! Awaken justice! Bind me, officers! Lead me
hence! I will discover secrets which shall make the hearer's blood run
cold. (Going. )

PRESIDENT (detaining him). Surely, madman, thou wilt not dare?

WORM (tapping him on the shoulder). I will, though,--comrade, I will! I
am mad, 'tis true; but my madness is thy work, and now I will act like a
madman! Arm in arm with thee will I to the scaffold! Arm in arm with
thee to hell! Oh! how it tickles my fancy, villain, to be damned with
thee! (The officers carry him off. )

MILLER (who has lain upon LOUISA'S corpse in silent anguish, starts
suddenly up, and throws the purse before the MAJOR'S feet. ) Poisoner,
take back thy accursed gold! Didst thou think to purchase my child with
it? (Rushes distractedly out of the chamber. )

FERDINAND (in a voice scarcely audible). Follow him! He is desperate.
The gold must be taken care of for his use; 'tis the dreadful
acknowlegment of my debt to him. Louisa! I come! Farewell! On this
altar let me breathe my last.

PRESIDENT (recovering from his stupor). Ferdinand! my son! Not one last
look for a despairing father? (FERDINAND is laid by the side of LOUISA. )

FERDINAND. My last must sue to God for mercy on myself.

PRESIDENT (falling down before him in the most dreadful agony). The
Creator and the created abandon me! Not one last look to cheer me in the
hour of death! (FERDINAND stretches out his trembling hand to him, and
expires. )

PRESIDENT (springing up). He forgave me! (To the OFFICERS. ) Now, lead
on, sirs! I am your prisoner.

[Exit, followed by the OFFICERS; the curtain falls.






THE CAMP OF WALLENSTEIN

Translated by James Churchill.


The Camp of Wallenstein is an introduction to the celebrated tragedy of
that name; and, by its vivid portraiture of the state of the general's
army, gives the best clue to the spell of his gigantic power. The blind
belief entertained in the unfailing success of his arms, and in the
supernatural agencies by which that success is secured to him; the
unrestrained indulgence of every passion, and utter disregard of all law,
save that of the camp; a hard oppression of the peasantry and plunder of
the country, have all swollen the soldiery with an idea of interminable
sway. But as we have translated the whole, we shall leave these reckless
marauders to speak for themselves.

Of Schiller's opinion concerning the Camp, as a necessary introduction to
the tragedy, the following passage taken from the prologue to the first
representation, will give a just idea, and may also serve as a motto to
the work:--

"Not he it is, who on the tragic scene
Will now appear--but in the fearless bands
Whom his command alone could sway, and whom
His spirit fired, you may his shadow see,
Until the bashful Muse shall dare to bring
Himself before you in a living form;
For power it was that bore his heart astray
His Camp, alone, elucidates his crime. "



THE CAMP OF WALLENSTEIN.



DRAMATIS PERSONAE.

Sergeant-Major | of a regiment of Recruit.
Trumpeter | Terzky's carabineers. Citizen.
Artilleryman, Peasant.
Sharpshooters. Peasant Boy.
Mounted Yagers, of Holk's corps. Capuchin.
Dragoons, of Butler's regiment. Regimental Schoolmaster.
Arquebusiers, of Tiefenbach's regiment. Sutler-Woman.
Cuirassier, of a Walloon regiment. Servant Girl.
Cuirassier, of a Lombard regiment. Soldiers' Boys.
Croats. Musicians.
Hulans.

(SCENE. --The Camp before Pilsen, in Bohemia. )



SCENE I.

Sutlers' tents--in front, a Slop-shop. Soldiers of all colors and
uniforms thronging about. Tables all filled. Croats and Hulans
cooking at a fire. Sutler-woman serving out wine. Soldier-boys
throwing dice on a drum-head. Singing heard from the tent.

Enter a Peasant and his Son.

SON.
Father, I fear it will come to harm,
So let us be off from this soldier swarm;
But boist'rous mates will ye find in the shoal--
'Twere better to bolt while our skins are whole.

FATHER.
How now, boy! the fellows wont eat us, though
They may be a little unruly, or so.
See, yonder, arriving a stranger train,
Fresh comers are they from the Saal and Mayne;
Much booty they bring of the rarest sort--
'Tis ours, if we cleverly drive our sport.
A captain, who fell by his comrade's sword,
This pair of sure dice to me transferred;
To-day I'll just give them a trial to see
If their knack's as good as it used to be.
You must play the part of a pitiful devil,
For these roaring rogues, who so loosely revel,
Are easily smoothed, and tricked, and flattered,
And, free as it came, their gold is scattered.
But we--since by bushels our all is taken,
By spoonfuls must ladle it back again;
And, if with their swords they slash so highly,
We must look sharp, boy, and do them slyly.

[Singing and shouting in the tent.

Hark, how they shout! God help the day!
'Tis the peasant's hide for their sport must pay.
Eight months in our beds and stalls have they
Been swarming here, until far around
Not a bird or a beast is longer found,
And the peasant, to quiet his craving maw,
Has nothing now left but his bones to gnaw.
Ne'er were we crushed with a heavier hand,
When the Saxon was lording it o'er the land:
And these are the Emperor's troops, they say!

SON.
From the kitchen a couple are coming this way,
Not much shall we make by such blades as they.

FATHER.
They're born Bohemian knaves--the two--
Belonging to Terzky's carabineers,
Who've lain in these quarters now for years;
The worst are they of the worthless crew.
Strutting, swaggering, proud and vain,
They seem to think they may well disdain
With the peasant a glass of his wine to drain
But, soft--to the left o' the fire I see
Three riflemen, who from the Tyrol should be
Emmerick, come, boy, to them will we.
Birds of this feather 'tis luck to find,
Whose trim's so spruce, and their purse well lined.

[They move towards the tent.



SCENE II.

The above--Sergeant-Major, Trumpeter, Hulan.

TRUMPETER.
What would the boor? Out, rascal, away!

PEASANT.
Some victuals and drink, worthy masters, I pray,
For not a warm morsel we've tasted to day.

TRUMPETER.
Ay, guzzle and guttle--'tis always the way.

HULAN (with a glass).
Not broken your fast! there--drink, ye hound!

He leads the peasant to the tent--the others come forward.

SERGEANT (to the Trumpeter).
Think ye they've done it without good ground?
Is it likely they double our pay to-day,
Merely that we may be jolly and gay?

TRUMPETER.
Why, the duchess arrives to-day, we know,
And her daughter too--

SERGEANT.
Tush! that's mere show--
'Tis the troops collected from other lands
Who here at Pilsen have joined our bands--
We must do the best we can t' allure 'em,
With plentiful rations, and thus secure 'em.
Where such abundant fare they find,
A closer league with us to bind.

TRUMPETER.
Yes! --there's something in the wind.

SERGEANT.
The generals and commanders too--

TRUMPETER.
A rather ominous sight, 'tis true.

SERGEANT.
Who're met together so thickly here--

TRUMPETER.
Have plenty of work on their hands, that's clear.

SERGEANT.
The whispering and sending to and fro--

TRUMPETER.
Ay! Ay!

SERGEANT.
The big-wig from Vienna, I trow,
Who since yesterday's seen to prowl about
In his golden chain of office there--
Something's at the bottom of this, I'll swear.

TRUMPETER.
A bloodhound is he beyond a doubt,
By whom the duke's to be hunted out.

SERGEANT.
Mark ye well, man! --they doubt us now,
And they fear the duke's mysterious brow;
He hath clomb too high for them, and fain
Would they beat him down from his perch again.

TRUMPETER.
But we will hold him still on high--
That all would think as you and I!

SERGEANT.
Our regiment, and the other four
Which Terzky leads--the bravest corps
Throughout the camp, are the General's own,
And have been trained to the trade by himself alone
The officers hold their command of him,
And are all his own, or for life or limb.



SCENE III.

Enter Croat with a necklace. Sharpshooter following him.
The above.

SHARPSHOOTER.
Croat, where stole you that necklace, say?
Get rid of it man--for thee 'tis unmeet:
Come, take these pistols in change, I pray.

CROAT.
Nay, nay, Master Shooter, you're trying to cheat.

SHARPSHOOTER.
Then I'll give you this fine blue cap as well,
A lottery prize which just I've won:
Look at the cut of it--quite the swell!

CROAT (twirling the Necklace in the Sun).
But this is of pearls and of garnets bright,
See, how it plays in the sunny light!

SHARPSHOOTER (taking the Necklace).
Well, I'll give you to boot, my own canteen--
I'm in love with this bauble's beautiful sheen.
[Looks at it.

TRUMPETER.
See, now! --how cleanly the Croat is done
Snacks! Master Shooter, and mum's the word.

CROAT (having put on the cap).
I think your cap is a smartish one.

SHARPSHOOTER (winking to the Trumpeter).
'Tis a regular swop, as these gents have heard.



SCENE IV.

The above. An Artilleryman.

ARTILLERYMAN (to the Sergeant).
How is this I pray, brother carabineer?
Shall we longer stay here, our fingers warming,
While the foe in the field around is swarming?

SERGEANT.
Art thou, indeed, in such hasty fret?
Why the roads, as I think, are scarce passable yet.

ARTILLERYMAN.
For me they are not--I'm snug enough here--
But a courier's come, our wits to waken
With the precious news that Ratisbon's taken.

TRUMPETER.
Ha! then we soon shall have work in hand.

SERGEANT.
Indeed! to protect the Bavarian's land,
Who hates the duke, as we understand,
We won't put ourselves in a violent sweat.

ARTILLERYMAN.
Heyday! --you'll find you're a wiseacre yet.



SCENE V.

The above--Two Yagers. Afterwards Sutler-woman,
Soldier-boy, Schoolmaster, Servant-girl.

FIRST YAGER.
See! see!
Here meet we a jovial company!

TRUMPETER.
Who can these greencoats be, I wonder,
That strut so gay and sprucely yonder!

SERGEANT.
They're the Yagers of Holk--and the lace they wear,
I'll be sworn, was ne'er purchased at Leipzig fair.

SUTLER-WOMAN (bringing wine).
Welcome, good sirs!

FIRST YAGER.
Zounds, how now?
Gustel of Blasewitz here, I vow!

SUTLER-WOMAN.
The same in sooth--and you I know,
Are the lanky Peter of Itzeho:
Who at Glueckstadt once, in revelling night,
With the wags of our regiment, put to flight
All his father's shiners--then crowned the fun--

FIRST YAGER.
By changing his pen for a rifle-gun.

SUTLER-WOMAN.
We're old acquaintance, then, 'tis clear.

FIRST YAGER.
And to think we should meet in Bohemia here!

SUTLER-WOMAN.
Oh, here to-day--to-morrow yonder--
As the rude war-broom, in restless trace,
Scatters and sweeps us from place to place.
Meanwhile I've been doomed far round to wander.

FIRST YAGER.
So one would think, by the look of your face.

SUTLER-WOMAN.
Up the country I've rambled to Temsewar,
Whither I went with the baggage-car,
When Mansfeld before us we chased away;
With the duke near Stralsund next we lay,
Where trade went all to pot, I may say.
I jogged with the succors to Mantua;
And back again came, under Feria:
Then, joining a Spanish regiment,
I took a short cut across to Ghent;
And now to Bohemia I'm come to get
Old scores paid off, that are standing yet,
If a helping hand by the duke be lent--
And yonder you see my sutler's tent.

FIRST YAGER.
Well, all things seem in a flourishing way,
But what have you done with the Scotchman, say,
Who once in the camp was your constant flame?

SUTLER-WOMAN.
A villain, who tricked me clean, that same
He bolted, and took to himself whate'er
I'd managed to scrape together, or spare,
Leaving me naught but the urchin there.

SOLDIER-BOY (springing forward).
Mother, is it my papa you name?

FIRST YAGER.
Well, the emperor now must father this elf,
For the army must ever recruit itself.

SCHOOLMASTER.
Forth to the school, ye rogue--d'ye hear?

FIRST YAGER.
He, too, of a narrow room has fear.

SERVANT GIRL (entering).
Aunt, they'll be off.

SUTLER-WOMAN.
I come apace.

FIRST YAGER.
What gypsy is that with the roguish face?

SUTLER-WOMAN.
My sister's child from the south, is she.

FIRST YAGER.
Ay, ay, a sweet little niece--I see.

SECOND YAGER (holding the girl).
Softly, my pretty one! stay with me.

GIRL.
The customers wait, sir, and I must go.
[Disengages herself, and exit.

FIRST YAGER.
That maiden's a dainty morsel, I trow!
And her aunt--by heaven! I mind me well,--
When the best of the regiment loved her so,
To blows for her beautiful face they fell.
What different folks one's doomed to know!
How time glows off with a ceaseless flow!
And what sights as yet we may live to see!
(To the Sergeant and Trumpeter. )
Your health, good sirs, may we be free,
A seat beside you here to take?



SCENE VI.

The Yagers, Sergeant, and Trumpeter.

SERGEANT.
We thank ye--and room will gladly make.
To Bohemia welcome.

FIRST YAGER.
Snug enough here!
In the land of the foe our quarters were queer.

TRUMPETER.
You haven't the look on't--you're spruce to view.

SERGEANT.
Ay, faith, on the Saal, and in Meissen, too,
Your praises are heard from the lips of few.

SECOND YAGER.
Tush, man! why, what the plague d'ye mean?
The Croat had swept the fields so clean,
There was little or nothing for us to glean.

TRUMPETER.
Yet your pointed collar is clean and sightly,
And, then, your hose that sit so tightly!
Your linen so fine, with the hat and feather,
Make a show of smartness altogether!
(To Sergeant. )
That fortune should upon younkers shine--
While nothing in your way comes, or mine.

SERGEANT.
But then we're the Friedlander's regiment
And, thus, may honor and homage claim.

FIRST YAGER.
For us, now, that's no great compliment,
We, also, bear the Friedlander's name.

SERGEANT.
True--you form part of the general mass.

FIRST YAGER.
And you, I suppose, are a separate class!
The difference lies in the coats we wear,
And I have no wish to change with you there.

SERGEANT.
Sir Yager, I can't but with pity melt,
When I think how much among boors you've dwelt.
The clever knack and the proper tone,
Are caught by the general's side alone.

FIRST YAGER.
Then the lesson is wofully thrown away,--
How he hawks and spits, indeed, I may say
You've copied and caught in the cleverest way;
But his spirit, his genius--oh, these I ween,
On your guard parade are but seldom seen.

SECOND YAGER.
Why, zounds! ask for us wherever you will,
Friedland's wild hunt is our title still!
Never shaming the name, all undaunted we go
Alike through the field of a friend, or a foe;
Through the rising stalk, or the yellow corn,
Well know they the blast of Holk's Yager horn.
In the flash of an eye, we are far or near,
Swift as the deluge, or there or here--
As at midnight dark, when the flames outbreak
In the silent dwelling where none awake;
Vain is the hope in weapons or flight,
Nor order nor discipline thwart its might.
Then struggles the maid in our sinewy arms,
But war hath no pity, and scorns alarms.
Go, ask--I speak not with boastful tongue--
In Bareuth, Westphalia, Voigtland, where'er
Our troops have traversed--go, ask them there--
Children and children's children long,
When hundreds and hundreds of years are o'er,
Of Holk will tell and his Yager corps.

SERGEANT.
Why, hark! Must a soldier then be made
By driving this riotous, roaring trade!
'Tis drilling that makes him, skill and sense--
Perception--thought--intelligence.

FIRST YAGER.
'Tis liberty makes him! Here's a fuss!
That I should such twaddle as this discuss.
Was it for this that I left the school?
That the scribbling desk, and the slavish rule,
And the narrow walls, that our spirits cramp,
Should be met with again in the midst of the camp?
No! Idle and heedless, I'll take my way,
Hunting for novelty every day;
Trust to the moment with dauntless mind,
And give not a glance or before or behind.
For this to the emperor I sold my hide,
That no other care I might have to bide.
Through the foe's fierce firing bid me ride,
Through fathomless Rhine, in his roaring flow,
Where ev'ry third man to the devil may go,
At no bar will you find me boggling there;
But, farther than this, 'tis my special prayer,
That I may not be bothered with aught like care.

SERGEANT.
If this be your wish, you needn't lack it,
'Tis granted to all with the soldier's jacket.

FIRST YAGER.
What a fuss and a bother, forsooth, was made
By that man-tormentor, Gustavus, the Swede,
Whose camp was a church, where prayers were said
At morning reveille and evening tattoo;
And, whenever it chanced that we frisky grew,
A sermon himself from the saddle he'd read.

SERGEANT.
Ay, that was a man with the fear of God.

FIRST YAGER.
Girls he detested; and what's rather odd,
If caught with a wench you in wedlock were tacked,--
I could stand it no longer, so off I packed.

SERGEANT.
Their discipline now has a trifle slacked.

FIRST YAGER.
Well, next to the League I rode over; their men
Were mustering in haste against Magdeburg then.
Ha!